Worth The Wait Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

Go ahead.
Make us wait.
Leave your musicians on the stage
While you change your clothes
Or fix your bow.
Do whatever it takes
To prepare yourself and your cello
For your concerto.

I see your concert master smile patiently.
I see the indulgence in your musicians' faces
And the genuine affection they show you
When you finally retake your place at their heart.

There are still preparations to be made
Looks exchanged and pages arranged
And tuning that never seems to please you.
But you finally settle into your seat and nod.

And instantly you are lost in the Haydn.
As if everything else has faded away
And you are alone in a cocoon of music.
I wonder who you are communing with.
Us? The composer? Or your own soul?

Soon I, too, stop observing and start listening.
I close my eyes and focus on each note.
I hear you scratch some tones out with a groan
And tease some out with a pleasing sweetness.

You don't seem to be performing
You seen to be reaching
For something new
Something uniquely you
Something that Haydn would never have asked for
But accepted and respected nonetheless.

You bow so delicately I can hear you breathing
And then the orchestra rushes back in
Like a wave erasing the birdlike footprints
You etched in the sand for length of a cadenza.

And now I am left with the memory of your transcendence.
And how your belief in the truth of the music lifted us with you.